A Child at Play in the Trees

The Ravens that Rise Early (Part II)

The clouds, thin alabaster tendrils teasing the broad expanse of blue, wisped by. They were carried by the wind, aimless and uncaring as they drifted far above the waving treetops. There was a child-like mien about them as they coasted and changed – a capricious gaiety that the warmth of the sun and the joyous blue of the sky seemed to emphasize.

"Will it help me? Will it save me?"

The nurse's artificial smile faded. "We hope so, dear."

Sandra held a teddy bear as the IV drained. It brought no comfort to her in the cold, sterile room.

"You have to have faith, Sandra," her mother said as she sat beside her holding her hand. "The doctors believe it will help. It may beat back the cancer."

Her mother looked worried and unconvinced as she ran her fingers through Sandra's long blonde hair. "We have to have faith."

"Faith," Sandra said. The clouds whisked by, and the spring warmth enfolded her in a close, loving embrace like a mother tenderly caressing her newborn child.

The nausea faded.

"It's not looking so good," Dr Sanji sighed. "The chemo has not done the damage to the cancer as we'd hoped. We will have to do another round."

Sandra ran a hand over her head now bare and smooth while her mother cried. She sighed and gripped the teddy bear tighter.

The bird song intruded. Sandra recognized robins and chickadees as they chattered amongst the branches of the nearby oak. She wished she understood them; wondered what was so important to them that they could talk about it for hours with such animated excitement. It must be something important, she mused with a contented smile as the warmth brought on a comfortable lethargy. Gossiping maybe, or perhaps it was simply the comfortable chatter between friends.

She missed that; the comfortable chatter between friends. She had been too sick for school, and now she was too sick for even friends. Nausea, exhaustion, and a lack of balance meant most of her time was spent on the couch or in bed. Today was a rare day to be out in the beauty of the spring to enjoy the world.

Perhaps enjoy her last summer.

"Ohk, ohk!" One of the ravens made its deep, grousing cackle and Sandra spared it a glance. The pair of ravens were still staring intently at her with a fascination that remained odd and somewhat unnerving. What was it about her that could possibly fascinate them?

"What is it that you want?" Sandra sighed as she closed her eyes and rubbed her hands upon the soft, verdant grass.

"She died— as dies in eastern skies." The voice was deep and soothing; a soft non-intrusive breath that whispered in her mind. It was as if the grass had sighed.

The squeals of a finch intruded and Sandra's wane smile came back.

"We've tried all we can do with chemo," Dr Sanji said in apologetic tones. "We have some other measures that we can look at, but we are not making enough progress with the cancer."

Sandra's mother held her hand tightly while she dabbed Kleenex against her red, swollen eyes. "We'll try anything," she said brokenly. "Anything."

Sandra bit her lip. No, not anything. It's too tiring.

The smell of grass was heady and the feel of it brought a memory of a puppy from long ago; it felt like the soft fur of a living, loving creature. She rubbed her hands over it, burrowing deeper into its aromatic embrace.

"She died—as dies upon the gale."

The raven cackled, and Sandra looked upon them again. "Shoo," she mouthed with a wink. "Just shoo, old bird. You're disturbing me."

Her long blonde hair splayed upon the grass and the puppy nestled in the crook of her arm. Sassy the German Shepperd pup was eight weeks old and snoring gently in the warm afternoon sun. Sandra rubbed a hand over the silky fur and round belly; a satisfied smile formed on her face. The puppy was asleep and happy. She had never been more in love with anything.

"She died—as dies a lovely tale." The voice was a mere hush.

"Yes, she died." Sandra murmured. She looked upon Sassy as she lay upon the vet's examination table. Five months old and alive with the boundless curiosity of new life; now still after being hit by a car. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she ran a hand over the soft fur. She brushed the tears aside but more came.

Sandra wept.

"The child is new begun, yet sudden ending."

"Sudden ending," Sandra mouthed.